


Sweet Home

by TheBiFromUNCLE



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Spock (Star Trek), First Time, Getting Together, Irritation to Lovers, M/M, Top Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiFromUNCLE/pseuds/TheBiFromUNCLE
Summary: Tired of staying in Jim's guest room after his divorce, Leonard is house-hunting. But he's having some problems with the realtor.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 20
Kudos: 285





	Sweet Home

“This room would make an adequate nursery”, the realtor said, turning from the bay window. The room  _ was  _ light and airy. You could put a crib against the far wall there, and that would leave room for a rocking chair in the corner and a changing table against the opposite wall-

“I’m not married” Leonard McCoy answered, testily.  _ Not anymore. _

“I was under the impression that marriage was no longer a prerequisite for producing children amongst humans’.

“Well, I guess I’m just old-fashioned then”. The realtor arched an eyebrow.

“Do you plan on having children?”

“Are all realtors this nosy?”Leonard snapped.

“Knowledge of our clients lifestyles allows us to best meet their needs”.

“Terrific”, Leonard growled, stalking out of the room.

Leonard had spent the last three weekends in the company of the most obnoxious, judgemental, snobby excuse for a realtor that ever made contact with humans. Spock, who had come highly recommended, having sold Nyota and Scotty their house last spring, seemed to hate house-hunting, houses themselves, and also Leonard. 

“I saw on your website you have a listing on Amber Grove. I told you I liked that area, why haven’t you shown it to me?”.

Somehow, without moving a muscle in his face, Spock managed to convey oceans of disdain.

“I do not think the property will suit you”.

Leonard shut the kitchen cupboard. Not enough storage space. 

‘I want to see it. Next weekend’. He turned, folding his arms, challenging. Spock, however, merely dipped his head and made a note on his padd.

The house on Amber Grove was awful. The rooms were all small, boxy and dark. The fittings were several decades out of date. And Leonard was certain that if he lifted the aggressively generic water-colour in the living room, he would find mould bubbling up under the wall paper. 

Spock did not lead the tour for once, instead following Leonard from unpleasant room to unpleasant room. 

Leonard said nothing.

Spock said nothing.

With each house they had visited, Leonard had tried to  _ see  _ himself living there. Could he take his morning coffee by that window? Would he stack logs by that fireplace come winter? Unfortunately, he could see himself living here all too well, bitter and lonely. He quickened his pace, eager for a moment alone and found himself in the master bedroom. Indents in the carpet murmured where the bed had once stood and it seemed too small for the room. A single man’s house.

Leonard darted into the ensuite. The smell of bleach assaulted him. No windows. He braced his hands on the sink and tried to slow his breathing. Think of something good. Think of the kind of place he  _ wanted  _ to live, not what he felt he deserved. 

A bathroom. White tiles, not these anemic blue ones. A deep bathtub- no a shower, one of those fancy ones with water pressure enough to break your skin. Leaning sleepily at the sink, a warm body behind him, half-hard in the early morning, arms wrapping around him, turning his head to press his mouth against a neck, a jaw, a pointed ear-

“Leonard?”.

His eyes snapped open. 

Spock came to stand at his shoulder and their eyes met in the mirror. The bathroom was entirely too small.

“It’s too far from the hospital”, he said, as if that was the only thing wrong with the house. He could almost feel Spock’s breath on the back of his neck.

‘What else ya got?’ Leonard turned, and they were close, face to face.Spock lingered for a moment before stepping back.

‘There is a two-bed with a commute that you may find more acceptable’.

  
  


“Why are you so damn picky Bones?” Jim asked him that night. ‘I thought you were desperate to get away from me’.

He was right about that. Staying in Jim’s spare room for the last month had reminded Leonard of his college days, and not in a good way. But for all his mess and unnatural early morning cheer, Jim was pretty good to live with. It was nice to be around someone who not only tolerated his grouchiness but delighted in riling him up.

That being said, living out of a suitcase with the majority of your belongings either being kept by your ex-wife or locked up in storage had a way of wearing you down.

Leonard wanted to get out on his own.

“I don’t just want another shitty apartment Jim, I want somewhere I can put roots down. Make it feel like a home”. The last part came out more wistfully than he had intended and he took a quick swig of his beer. Jim, whose number one hobby was pushing things too far, didn’t remark on it.

“So what, the realtor sucks?”

“He’s a goddamn nightmare Jim. Never met such a prissy son of a bitch in my life, even for a Vulcan. How’d a Vulcan end up doing Terran real estate anyway? Though they were all rocket scientists or brain surgeons”.

“Hey maybe he could get a job at the hospital!”

Leonard shot him a dark look that said  _ don’t even joke. _

“Every listing I’ve requested to view, he just turns his nose up at, like just crossing the threshold would soil his shiny leather shoes”, Leonard said, frowning. 

“So? He’s not going to be the one living there”.

“No, but- but-”, Leonard floundered. “It’s just hard to imagine yourself comfortable in a place when you have this hobgoblin at your shoulder, tutting at the wallpaper”. He tipped his head back, draining his beer. He looked up to find Jim grinning at him.

“What?”.

“Is he hot?”.

“What does that have to do with anything?”, he snapped, but despite himself, he felt a flush of heat creep up his neck. “Do something useful for once and get me another beer”.

Jim rose from the couch, snickering. He seemed happy enough to have gotten under Leonard’s skin and returned with two beers and a take-out menu.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not hungry”. Leonard picked at the label on the bottle with his thumbnail. He felt Jim’s gaze, intent on him.

“Oh?” he asked, dangerously neutral.

“Yeah, I ate while I was out”. This label really was fascinating.

“You ate alone?”.

“I was with Spock. We decided to take a break between houses”.

“Who paid?”.

“How’s that any of your business?”.

“Ok so you did”.

“He was at work, and it was my idea, wouldn’t have been fair-”

“Surely he has an expense account or something?”

“Didn’t come up”.

“Uh-huh”.

“Stop that”.

“I’m not doing anything, except ordering Andorian”.

“You’re smiling”.

“What can I say Bones”, Jim sighed, picking up his padd. “I’m a happy guy”.

  
  


The house was airy and spacious, two bed, three bath. None of the permanent fixtures were overly offensive to Leonard’s taste. Decent commute. But something wasn’t right. He glanced over at Spock, waiting by the fridge. He looked uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong with it?”.

“There is a draft”, Spock answered smoothly, not even having to think about it. Leonard hadn’t noticed any, but not that he mentioned it, he did feel a chill at the back off his neck. Leonard couldn’t stand the cold and he and Jocelyn had driven each other to distraction, her throwing open windows and him cranking the thermostat instead of having a conversation.

“There are also the issues that accompany any house with an open-concept design”, Spock continued.

“They are difficult and expensive to heat, for one. The acoustics are also undesirable. Sound travels and noise from the kitchen intrudes into areas designed for relaxation and rest. There is no privacy, without retreating to the bedroom, which causes poor sleep hygiene. Safety is another concern, as fire can spread at a faster rate.Whatever aesthetic charm they possess is outweighed by the numerous impracticalities”. Spock recited his criticisms curtly and with such precision, it was as if open-concept design had done him a grave and personal insult. Leonard bit back a smile.

“I thought they were good for entertaining. Y’know, dinner parties and stuff”.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Do you plan on doing much entertaining?”, he asked coolly, as if he already knew the answer.

“I might”, Leonard said defensively.

“Well then, designing a home around events that  _ might _ occur a handful of times per year is supremely wasteful”.

Leonard blinked.

“Ok then. No open-plan”. 

His expression didn’t change but he was certain Spock looked pleased.

  
  


“No”.

“Why not?”.

“Garden’s too big”.

“A large garden is considered by many to be a desirable quality in a property”.

“Size isn’t everything”, Leonard answered before he could stop himself. Luckily, Spock didn’t seem to pick up on the double entendre.

“I hate gardening’, he went on, trying not to sound hurried. “And besides, with my hours, I wouldn’t be able to maintain it”. 

Spock turned, and bending slightly, touched his fingers against some roses growing next to the porch. The garden was beautiful, lush and vibrant. The owners had clearly tended to it lovingly and it deserved someone who could bestow the same kind of care to it. Spock straightened and closed his eyes against the afternoon sun. Leonard watched him and thought that it would, admittedly, be pleasant to sit out here with a glass of something strong and cold.

“Do you have a garden?”, he asked impulsively. Their conversation had never strayed into any of Spock’s personal details.

“No”, he said, eyes still closed. “I keep house plants”.

He opened his eyes, brown so dark the iris was almost indistinguishable.Then he turned and went back inside. 

Leonard waited a moment before following, unsure of why he felt the need to catch his breath.

  
  


Somewhere between the eight and eleventh house, Leonard realised that his imaginings from his future home had changed their shape. Expanded. 

As Spock stood at a kitchen island, he imagined coming home to Spock chopping vegetables there.

Spock never sat during any of the viewings but as Leonard flopped onto a couch in House 9, he saw himself catching Spock by the wrist and pulling him down with him. In House 10, breakfast in bed, sunlight spreading like butter over crisp white sheets. House 11, sharing coffee in deep, comfortable window seats. In bed again in house 12. And in the bathroom, against steaming tiles. And in front of the fireplace. And bent over the counter in the kitchen.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Jim asked, chewing noisily.

“You’re an animal. I don’t wanna date him, I’d kill him. We’d fight over everything, if he would ever lower himself to fighting. He just makes  _ statements _ and then acts like that’s the end of it. Stop smiling.”

Jim made a piss-poor attempt at schooling his expression.

“So don’t date him, just fuck him and get it out of your system”.

Leonard scowled. Hearing Spock being spoken of in such a manner didn’t sit right with him. Irritating as his was, he wasn’t a cheap amusement to be discarded as soon as Leonard was finished with him. He resettled himself where he sat.

“I’m not going to fucking proposition the guy while he’s at work, you sleaze”.

“Hard to believe he hasn’t fallen for that Southern charm already”.

  
  


House 13 proved to be reliably unlucky.

The owners had left the gates locked and they had been unable to find nearby street parking. Leonard raised an eyebrow as Spock pulled into a space almost three blocks away, signposting how unimpressed he was already. They were half-way there when the few droplets that had been spitting all day made good on their promise, and the heavens opened.

Spock looked at Leonard and Leonard looked at Spock, and without saying a word, they both decided to sprint. Spock was faster, and Leonard cursed as he executed an elegant, single-handed vault over the four-foot high gate. 

What surprised him was when he made the jump and found Spock waiting for him on the other side. Seeing Leonard was safely across, Spock resumed running. 

Inside the house, although Leonard was the only one panting, they were both equally saturated. There wasn’t much difference to his hair when soaking wet, but Spock white button-up was turning transparent. And clinging.

Leonard looked away and toed off his shoes. His Socks squelched unpleasantly against the tiles and he hopped from foot to foot, peeling them off. In the meantime, Spock had left and returned with bathrobes and towels.

“Are we allowed to use these?”

“I will explain to the owners. Get changed and I will put out clothes in the dryer”. Spock’s nipples were hard, poking through the fabric of the shirt. Leonard tried very hard not to notice this. This was made exponentially more difficult when Spock began unbuttoning his shirt. Leonard turned hurriedly and began to undress, although Spock seemed unbothered. His waterlogged jeans chafed and it was a relief to be rid of them. Then he hesitated, unsure of what to do about his boxers. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for a cue to follow, then turned entirely.

Spock stood in a pair of tight black briefs rubbing vigorously at his arms and legs with a towel. He then straightened and dragged the towel across his chest, through dark, damp hair. Hair that narrowed to a trail over a toned stomach and disappeared beneath the briefs. 

Spock then pulled a bathrobe around him, and keeping his eyes carefully downcast, reached beneath it and removed his briefs in one quick movement. 

Leonard flushed and turned away before copying him. 

Spock held out his hands to receive his sodden clothes.

“Least I know it comes equipped with all the facilities”, Leonard said, but his voice came out strangled. 

The house was awful. Or it might have been perfect. Leonard wouldn’t have been able to tell you. He took in nothing of Spock’s tour except how clammy and goose-pimpled his skin felt. And the way Spock’s bathrobe sometimes gaped open and the tantalising glimpse of collarbone it offered. And how much he wanted to reach out and touch him and all the ways they could make each other warm.

“You are a difficult man to please, Doctor”. Leonard looked up from the cupboard he’d been pretending to examine, in an effort to corral his thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”, he tried. And strangely he did feel sorry. He’d been told he was difficult his whole life and it had never bothered him before. He’d borne the label with pride even. But he found that he didn’t want to be difficult for Spock.

“It was not a criticism, merely an observation. But while it seems that you are quite certain of what you don’t like, you are less sure of what you do”.

Leonard opened his mouth to argue but something about proximity and being cold, uncomfortable and a step away from naked let the truth slip out instead.

“I guess it’s been a while since it mattered what I liked”. 

Spock inclined his head slightly. Leonard continued.

“I just keep waiting to open the door and think, ‘This is it, this home’. And every time it doesn’t happen, I’m reminded that I haven’t felt that since I was a kid. And maybe I’m just not meant to have a home. And that terrifies me”.

“Homes take time to build”, Spock said softly. He seemed less haughty, softer around the edges. Maybe it was just hard to project an air of superiority while wearing just a bathrobe.

“You are a difficult man to please and oftentimes an irritating one to work with. However, I have come to admire your decisiveness, irregardless of whether I agree with the decisions”.

“I told you I don’t want to live in a bungalow”. 

Spock’s mouth curved, slightly.

“When you make a decision, you trust in it. I suggest making them based on positives rather than negatives”.

Leonard felt his own mouth curve.

“Decisive, huh? Most people go with ‘stubborn’.

“I was being polite”. 

_ Yeah, and you’re not most people, _ Leonard thought. And then realised how true that was. There were very few people on this planet, and off, who tolerated his pessimism and dark moods. Jim was one of them. But he loved needling Leonard’s weak points, exposing the tender parts of himself and the deep and true affection there. His delight came from making a liar out of Leonard and being the exception to his rules.

No one had ever before suggested that his stubbornness was a good thing. Let alone something worthy of admiration.

“Thank you. Spock. I know I must make your job difficult”.

“I appreciate the challenge”.

You have to learn to get along with people, or you’re going to end up alone. He’d been told as much, implicitly and explicitly, so many times over the years.

Spocks’s hair was starting to curl as it dried. It looked messy, as if he had just woken up. Leonard liked it. 

He almost said as much, when a shrill beeping from somewhere in the house informed them that their clothes were dry. 

The rain had eased off somewhat, but they still had to make a dash for the car. As he buckled his belt Leonard said, “I’d like to see that last house again”.

Spock turned in his seat and looked at him. Leonard felt like he was being appraised. He often felt like that but for once he didn’t feel like he was coming up wanting.

“I will make another appointment for next weekend”, Spock said, before pulling out and driving away.

  
  


“You know you don’t have to do this alone, Bones”. Leonard looked up from his padd. He’d been going over patient files, making notes. His weekends being taken up with house-hunting meant he’d had to take more of his work home with him.

He sat in the armchair, Jim sprawled out on the couch, alternating between texting, playing games on his padd, reading a battered paperback and periodically getting up to retrieve snacks from the kitchen. This constant shuffling between activities was as close to a peaceful evening as Jim got and Leonard knew he would miss it when,  _ if _ , he ever moved out.

“I can come with you, if you want. Like if you need a second opinion, or just want someone to bounce ideas off”.

“You’re a good friend, Jim”, was all Leonard said. 

Jim screwed up his nose, embarrassed and pleased, and went back to his game.

Leonard was nervous as Spock unlocked the door to House 12-now-14. Maybe the good feeling he got from this house was only because Spock had loomed so large in his mind that day. But this confused good feeling was the best feeling he had gotten, so he decided to take Spock’s advice and follow it. See where it went. 

Spock held the door open, raised an eyebrow. Leonard squared his shoulders and stepped in.

The whole place needed to be repainted, badly. The walls were all a sickly magnolia that was badly scuffed and chipped in many places. However foyer was floored with rich, dark hardwood that spread into the living room. There, the light was dappled from an apple tree that stood in the front yard. In spring the window would fill up with blossoms, like pink and white snow pressing against the glass.

In the kitchen, the sink was beneath a window with a deep, boxy sill. Leonard hated doing the dishes facing a wall, like in Jim’s apartment, like in the house he had shared with his wife.

Sunlight spilled over the tiles and he knew that if he took his shoes off they would be warm under his feet.

Spock hovered unobtrusively in the background. This time, instead of fighting it and berating himself as a creep for the way his mind wandered. It was more bitter than sweet to imagine winding his arm around Spock’s waist, murmuring “what do you think, baby?” in his ear. But then, Leonard McCoy had never had much of a sweet-tooth.

He followed Spock upstairs, watching his back and the way his shoulder blades moved under his shirt, wanting to be just one step closer. While the rest of the house was bare, the master bedroom had been left with a bedroom, stripped bare. There was also a spacious built-in wardrobe that Leonard hadn’t really noticed the first time. Not that he would need that much space for just himself.

He sat at the foot of the bed, planting his hands behind him and leaning back slightly. He’s eyes trailed over to Spock in the doorway. He had his arms folded, almost hugging his padd to his chest. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked pleased, like he had been proven right about something.

“I’ll take it”.

Spock’s eyes widened briefly. For a moment, Leonard thought he was going to ask ‘Are you sure?’. Instead he made a note on his padd.

“I will inform the owners that you would like to make an offer”.

Spock handled the paperwork with astounding efficiency. Sitting in his office, two weeks later, Leonard finally understood why Scotty and Nyota had recommended him so highly. If the hunting had been drawn out and torturous, this part was painless.

“Your signature here and you will be a homeowner”. 

It felt slightly underwhelming, but Leonard still allowed himself a grin as he dashed the stylus across the padd. 

“Thank you, Spock”. He stood, holding out his hand. Spock paused before extending his own hand. The palm was smooth and dry, and long fingers curled around Leonard’s hand. He almost invited Spock to dinner with him and Jim, to celebrate. But the thought of sitting across from Spock, Jim grinning smugly at his side was unbearable. He squeezed Spock’s hand, once.

“I’ll see you around”. 

“You have my number if you encounter any issues”.

  
  


Two months later, the house still wasn’t unpacked. After getting all his belongings out of storage, Leonard was dismayed to discover how little space they all took up. He had managed to buy a couch before becoming overwhelmed by all the other purchases he needed to make. What kind of plates did he want? Why did he not own a frying pan? How many bath towels should a single man living alone own?

Instead of grappling with these questions, Leonard had gone to the hardware store and paid an unholy price for an armful of paint samples and that’s why he was alone on a Saturday night, in sweats and an Ole Miss t-shirt, going from room, daubing on the walls. 

He had been about to try French Stone in the kitchen when he realised how the take-out containers had piled up over the last week. He hadn’t been able to cook due to his lack of basic utensils and Jim never came over without bringing food.

Miraculously, he did have garbage bags and had shortly disposed of the mess and was dragging it to the kerb when he found Spock, standing in his front yard.

They stared at each other.

“I have a plant”, said Spock. 

“You have a plant”, said Leonard, and indeed, he held a small potted succulent.

“It is a housewarming gift”. Leonard had never seen Spock look uncertain before.

“Uh, lemme just-”. Leonard held up the bag and dumped it in the trashcan.

“Would you like to come in?”

“If I am not disturbing you. I only intended to drop this off”. 

“Uh-huh”. It was pretty late to be making social calls and surely even Vulcans knew that.

Inside, Leonard gestured for Spock to sit at the kitchen island while he washed his hands. He scrubbed until the paint flaked off. Though he had placed it on the table, Spock still held the pot between his fingertips.

Leonard dried his hands on a paper towel and arched his eyebrow.

“I told you, I’m not much of a gardener. You sure you want to hand that lamb over to the slaughter?”. He heard himself. “I appreciate the thought, though”. 

“It is a jade plant. They are known for being resilient. It requires only indirect sunlight and occasional water”. 

Leonard frowned doubtfully, and as he did so, took in Spock’s appearance. He was not dressed in his usual button-up and slacks. Instead he wore a black tunic shirt with a stiff, high collar and wide, bell-sleeves. The material was glossy like satin. 

“I’m sorry, I’m keeping you”. Spock really must have been just passing through. 

Spock’s brow crinkled.

“From what?”

“Whatever it is that you’re dressed up for”. Spock looked down at his outfit.

“This is considered casual-dress on Vulcan. It is the style I favour outside of work”.

“Oh. Well. You look good”.

Leonard didn’t know which was heavier, the silence or Spock’s gaze.

“As do you”. Spock said, finally.

Leonard felt the urge to scoff and mutter something about having paint in his hair but he didn’t. He felt pinned. Spock rose and stood in front of him.

“I wanted to see you again. I was informed of the tradition of house-warming gifts and it seemed an appropriate excuse”. Spock was an arms-length away and this time Leonard didn’t resist reaching out and taking him.

Spock went into his arms easily, eagerly. So quickly, that for a moment Leonard could only hold him, his face pressed into Spock’s cheek, hands sliding over his back, over that slippery material. 

Leonard pulled back and cupped Spock’s face and just  _ looked _ . Although he held perfectly still, Spock seemed to strain in his hands, eyes burning dark. Leonard kissed him once, and pulled away again gauging the reaction. Then again, slipping his tongue inside, tasting Spock’s mouth. Spock’s mouth was hot, he was warm everywhere, including his hands which were currently slipping under Leonard’s t-shirt. They parted again and Leonard happily tugged his shirt off before reaching for Spock’s. 

However his hands seemed to get lost in folds of fabric and he succeeded only in lifting a section of the hemline while the rest of the shirt draped loosely. 

“Here”, said Spock, his hands going to the collar.

“Let me?”. Spock acquiesced, his hands going instead to Leonard’s waist. 

Leonard’s fingers found a small gold button at the side of the collar. He undid it nimbly and the tunic fell open, baring Spock’s chest.

Leonard reached out and lightly touched Spock’s neck. Spock swallowed and Leonard smiled to feel the muscles jump beneath his fingers. He let his fingertips wander, tracing down over the clavicle, circling one nipple and then the other. He skimmed Spock’s torso with a feather-light touch all the way down to his waistband before working his way back up, this time with the back of his hand, knuckles trailing against skin. Then he cupped Spock’s neck and started kissing the other side soundly.

Spock smelled sweet and inviting and spicy, like cinnamon, and Leonard pressed his face into his neck trying to inhale as much of the scent as possible. He slipped the tunic from Spock’s shoulders, and before he could protest, turned and hung it on the back of the chair.

It felt impossibly good, having Spock’s skin against his, having him warm and solid in his arms. It had been a long time since he had kissed anyone but his ex-wife and it had been long enough since he had kissed her too. When things had been good, when they had still kissed, Leonard had loved being taller than Joceyln, having to hitch her up closer to get her mouth near his.

Spock was of a height with him, but somehow there was still that eager struggle to get closer. Only this time it wasn’t giving Leonard a crick in his neck.

“Would you like to see what I’ve done with the bedroom?” he murmured against Spock’s lips. 

Going up the stairs, pressed against Spock’s back was better than he had imagined.

In truth, he hadn’t done much with the bedroom bar putting sheets on the bed and hanging up most of his clothes, but Spock didn’t seem to mind. In fact he seemed thoroughly distracted. 

He had always seemed so slender, but now as Spock lay naked on top of him, Leonard could feel the solid weight of him, holding him in place on the mattress. Though an unfamiliar sensation, it felt comforting, luxurious even to be so covered.

With one hand, he cradled the back of Spock’s head, holding him close, petting that silky-fine hair. His other hand was occupied, opening Spock up. He was warm and slick around Leonard’s fingers, clenching occasionally, deliciously. One leg was hitched up over Leonard’s hip, allowing him better access.

Spock kissed him in a languid, unhurried fashion. He lifted his head briefly to look at Leonard from under hooded eyelids before once more squeezing Leonard’s shoulder and dipping into his mouth. It felt strangely post-coital and Leonard was decidedly pre-coital and achingly aware of it. When Spock lifted his head again he asked:

“Does this feel good?”, pushing his fingers in deeper as he did so. He could feel Spock’s cock hard against him but it never hurt to ask. Spock’s eyelids fluttered.

“I feel most comfortable, Leonard” he responded quietly. Leonard huffed a laugh. 

“We can do better than ‘comfortable’, I think”. Carefully he withdrew his fingers and rolled them over so Spock lay flat on his back. Leonard settled himself, kneeling between his thighs and began to stroke his cock. Spock’s hands twisted into the bed sheets. 

“Comfortable?”. Spock nodded and tried to push himself up on his elbows.

“None of that darlin’”, Leonard said, pressing his palm flat against Spock’s stomach. “Just lie back and let me make you feel good”.

Warmth blossomed in Leonard’s chest as he watched Spock obey. He’d always been a tactile person but it had been so long since he had gotten to touch another person this way. He’d always been slightly embarrassed by how much pride he took in getting his partners off but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt when he saw the way their faces contorted, then slackened, knowing he had gotten them there with his hands, his mouth, his cock. Just the way Spock’s face was starting to shift, his head thrown back a deep crease furrowing his brow-

“You cannot paint a bedroom navy”. Leonard’s hand stilled.

“Excuse me?”

Spock tilted his head, pointing with his chin at the patch of paint over the head board.

“It will be too dark and create an oppressive atmosphere. Lighter shades are more appropriate for creating a restful environment”.

Leonard blinked, momentarily baffled. Then he surged forward, capturing Spock’s mouth which was difficult to do while laughing. 

“If you’ve enough presence of mind to criticise my interior decorating”, he growled, dragging his mouth across Spock’s cheek. “I’m doing something terribly wrong”.

Spock was entirely too composed. Leonard wanted him to look as strung out as he felt. He pushed all the urgency he felt into the kiss, stroking Spock faster, trying to draw him up to the same headspace as Leonard.

To his relief, Spock joined him, releasing the sheets and winding his arms around him. Those perfect, full lips were so soft under Leonard’s mouth and looked even better now, swollen and kiss-bitten. With their chests flush together Leonard could feel every inch of Spock and as much as he took satisfaction from pleasuring another, now his own cock begged for attention. 

“Tell me what you want Spock”, he panted, nosing along the line of Spock’s jaw. “Tell me you want me”.

Spock moaned low in his ear, almost a purr.

“Leonard, yes, inside me, Leonard”. 

He kissed Spock again, soft and sweet. 

“How could I say no, when you ask so nicely?”

As he pushed into Spock, slow and steady, it didn’t feel as if he was operating under the force of his own momentum anymore. Instead it felt like gravity pulling him down, like he was falling into Spock. Like he had been falling his whole life without knowing, but now he could see the ground and feel the exhilarating rush. He would dash himself to pieces against Spock without care or fear.

“Sweetheart, you’ve any idea how good you look?”, he groaned, beginning to rock his hips. Spock took him beautifully, the slide of his cock into slick velvet heat. “All spread out for me, wanna keep you in my bed forever, would you like that darlin”.

Spock could only offer wordless moans in reply and Leonard felt them rumble in his chest, urging him on. 

“Take such good care of you, darlin’, have to when you’re so good for me”. Leonard felt Spock grip the hair on the back of his head and tug on it sharply. He had been resting his forehead in the crook of Spock’s shoulder and as he raised himself up he felt bleary and dazed.

Spock’s eyes met his, wordless and wanting, his mouth a perfect, tempting ‘O’. Leonard’s own mouth hovered over it, feeling Spock’s breath coming ever quicker.

“I’ve got you sweetheart”.

That was all it took and Spock was coming, streaking both their chests. Leonard reached down between them and stroked Spock through it, in time with his thrusts. As cum dripped down his chest and over his fingers, Leonard felt marked. The newness of everything, the house, Spock, even the damned sheets, made it all feel momentous.

As he followed Spock, pumping him full until they both trembled, he couldn’t help but think how nice it would be if he only ever had one other person in this bed. 

Jim had always called him a serial monogamist.

They lay side by side, chests falling and rising heavily. Spock’s profile was sharp and angular and he wanted to look at it every night before he fell asleep. He wondered how quickly Spock would flee if he told him as much. He had already blurted out a lot of talk about ‘forever’ but hopefully Spock would dismiss that as the heat of the moment.

“The south-facing bedroom would make a suitable nursery”, Spock said. He still had not quite recaptured his breath. Leonard stared so long that Spock turned to face him. The eyebrow arched and it felt like a question, a dare, and an invitation, all at once.

“Well” he said at last. “I told you. I’m an old-fashioned guy”. Spock’s mouth quirked.

“Indeed”.

Leonard leaned in and tasted the quirk.

  
  


The next morning, Leonard poured them both coffee.

“Sorry, I haven’t really done much grocery shopping. And I wasn’t expecting company”.

“Two blocks north, I believe there is an establishment that serves breakfast. Unless you are otherwise engaged this morning?”.

“No! No, that would be great. I’ll get dressed”.

Three days later, Spock was back at the house, this time for dinner. He brought with him a blue woolen blanket. 

“You already got me a house-warming gift”, Leonard said, kissing him on the cheek as he let him in.

“The living room is in need of additional warming”. Leonard scowled as Spock draped the blanket over the back of the couch. 

He was grateful for it after, when he pulled it over the two of them, too sleepy and heavy-limbed to get dressed or make it up stairs just yet.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
